


Let the devil take tomorrow

by aries_taurus



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Danny being there for Steve, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I am not nice to Catherine in this story but no bashing, Not Happy, POV Danny "Danno" Williams, Post 9.11, Spoilers, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 22:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17333795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aries_taurus/pseuds/aries_taurus
Summary: Danny’s a bit... Angry, if he’s honest. Not necessarily surprised. He’d known Steve wasn’t doing well. The grief and anguish in his tone the few time they’d spoke had been obvious, and then, the calls had stopped, turned to laconic texts... So he hadn’t exactly known what to expect but this? Wasn’t it.Danny's POV, woven through 9.11.





	Let the devil take tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Dolly Parton song "Help me make it through the night"
> 
> I watched the episode 4 times, read a lot of reviews by a lot of people, and it had some good things, but I wanted more of Danny, and more H/C, espacially wanted to see Steve grieving, becuase we know he didn't. He said as much.
> 
> So this is Danny, through the episode, and also Steve grieving. 
> 
> BE AWARE. DANNY ISN'T TOO HAPPY WITH CATHERINE, EARLY ON, BUT IT'S NOT CHARACTER BASHING. He gets a little more forgiving as it advances.

Danny’s a bit... Angry, if he’s honest. Not necessarily surprised. He’d known Steve wasn’t doing well. The grief and anguish in his tone the few time they’d spoke had been obvious, and then, the calls had stopped, turned to laconic texts... So he hadn’t exactly known what to expect but this? Wasn’t it. So of course, _of course_ he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“So what is it exactly that you’re doing?” Danny asks, keeping his tone inquisitive, but maybe it comes out a little harsh, a little abrasive, if he judges by the look Catherine gives him. Not that he minds terribly if his irritation and anger show through.

To say this wasn’t what he expected when he showed up on the ranch is... An understatement. He came to offer support to Steve, and instead he finds, what... Guantanamo Bay 2.0, brought to his partner by the lovely Catherine Rollins?

He knows damn well what she’s doing and okay, maybe in a way he’s grateful, because providing a conduit, an outlet, a, a, target for Steve’s revenge is a way of keeping him _here_ , at least for now.

But again, Steve’s doing what he always does; he goes off and shuts down, puts on this, this, this dark _cloak_ of Navy SEAL badassery and gets that laser focus and goes on the hunt.

He knows they’ll find Hassan. They’ll find Greer. Of that he has no doubt. But at what cost?

And Cath bringing the lawyer _here_ , for Steve to fucking _torture_? What the hell *is* that?

“Excuse me?” Catherine responds, frowning, her eyebrows creasing and her lips parting in that expression she has when she pretends not to understand.

“Don’t. Don’t do that with me,” he says, shaking his head, while there’s another awful, awful scream inside the shed behind them. He has to keep himself from shuddering, because every time his brain reminds him it’s Steve in there doing the torturing, he wants to puke. Not that he didn’t know Steve was capable of it, just... He prefers nice, civilized Steve. Not scary, ruthless, cold SEAL Steve. 

He fixes Catherine with a steely, unimpressed glare. “You brought the lawyer here, what’s-his-name, Gregors, for Steve to extract information from. You brought him _here_. When you could’ve done this yourself, have had someone else in the company do this, but no, you had to bring the guy here, offer him up to Steve like some sort of... I dunno, a cat that brings a mouse to his owner or something. This... This how they do it, in the CIA? This is how badly they twist up your mind? You... You turned him into... into a guy who _tortures people for information,_ Cath. You’re having him do what Wo Fat did to him when you could have spared him that,” Danny hisses viciously. “Why would you do that to him, if you ever had a shred of love for this man, huh?”

Catherine doesn’t look at him. Instead, she looks towards the fields and the distant mountains. “It’s not always that simple, Danny.”

“That’s bullshit and it’s an easy way out for you. Who’s gonna be there to pick up the pieces when this is done, huh? You?”

She gives him a sharp look and drops her eyes to the ground. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Steve’ll get him to talk, we’ll get the guy, and probably get Greer too, and I have no doubt you’ll make Herr What’s-his-face bleeding and screaming in there disappear but when what he’s done catches up to him, when he does start to grieve, you won’t be here. I’ll be the one scraping him off the floor of his garage and keeping the gun out of his hand or dragging him out of a bottle of whisky or don't you think he’s capable of being that depressed?”

There’s more screaming and sobbing from the shed but by his side, Catherine remains silent.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

“It’s not my place anymore, Danny.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s not your place to let him go down that hole either, and especially not to lead him down into it.”

“I owe Joe too. More than you can know, so stop trying to guilt trip me, all right? You’re here, and you’re in this too,Danny. Don’t pretend otherwise,” Catherine snaps back, glaring back at him.

“I’m not. I just know who’s interests I’m protecting. There ain’t no question or conflict about it in my case. I’m here for him and I’ll be there for him *after* it’s done too. How about you, huh?”

Catherine looks away, sighing. 

Danny huffs, a short, derisive laugh. Of course, he isn’t surprised. He doesn't doubt Steve is the one that asked Catherine to intervene, to help, but he’s certain she didn’t hesitate to exploit the situation to the CIA’s advantage, to her own advantage too. She’ll use any excuse she can to get close to Steve but she won’t stick around this time any more than she did almost three years ago. Thing is, Danny’s never been shy about speaking his mind and he won’t start now.

“Right,” Danny bites out, letting the bitterness show through “Once the Greer issue’s taken care of, your mission’s done, you’ll disappear into the sunset again. That’s all he is to you, now. A mission. A means to an end.”

“He’s not but there’s nothing I can say that’ll convince you otherwise,” Catherine says softly.

They both stay quiet for a while, the only human sounds coming from the shed behind them.

“Don’t worry,” he says eventually. “I won’t say a word. I’ll be one hundred percent on board. But don’t think for one _second_ that I’m okay with what you’ve done, because you’re just like everybody else in the line now. You’re just one more person who’s used him for their own needs. You’re no better than Greer,” he says with finality, shoving to his feet. “I know avenging Joe is what he wants, but you using him like this is still wrong.”

He leans on the railing, eyes on the beautiful scenery in front of him, trying not to listen to the horrible screams coming from behind him.

A part of him is still horrified, knowing who is responsible for those screams. He can’t help but wonder what will happen when Steve realises what he’s done... But then, it looks like he’s been at it a while and... that look in his eyes... He wonders just how many times Steve’s done this, just how proficient he is at this. There was that guy in Mexico when Sarah was kidnapped, but... A cartel thug for a child...

Deep, deep down, he knows McGarrett is a good man, so he also knows that _this_ , when it is all over, what he’s doing at the moment, will quite probably eat at him. Danny also knows he will be the one there to pick up the jagged, broken pieces when it’s all said and done.

It goes quiet in the shed and the door creaks open, Steve coming out with the bucked in his bloodied hands.

Apparently, they’re going to Laos.

Catherine disappears to make some calls and Steve sits by his side, but the man there feels like a stranger. He’s closed off, distant, cold, and Danny can almost feel the barely restrained violence under his skin.

“Hey,” Danny says, bumping Steve’s knee with his.

“Hm.”

“You okay? Because let me tell you, you look ten kinds of awful, with the scruff and the dirt and the blood.”

“Don’t worry. Beard’s coming off before we fly out to Laos,” Steve says in that scratchy rasp that’s not anywhere near his normal voice. He sounds like he’s been screaming himself hoarse for the past five weeks, the whole time he’s been gone.

“Not what I meant, Steven. I asked if you were okay. I don’t really care about the beard or the fact you look like you haven’t showered in about a week, although that tells me you probably haven’t slept in about that long, am I right?”

“I’m fine, Danny.”

“Again, not what I asked.”

“You asked if I was okay. I just answered. I’m fine.”

“And after that, I asked when was the last time you _slept_.”

Steve blows out a long sigh, with a minute shake of his head. “I dunno,” he says, letting his head drop forward and Danny can’t help it. His hand goes to the back of Steve’s neck and wow, the muscles there are rigid with so much tension, he can’t help but massage them a little.

“You didn’t need to come out here,” Steve mumbles as Danny feels the muscles literally melt under his fingers.

“Yes I did. We already covered that part when I got here, didn’t we? Don’t make me repeat myself. Besides, you need the backup for that insane plan of yours. If I don’t come with, I’m gonna end up having to come rescue your ass out of some... insane situation, so I might as well come along, save myself the stress of having to rush to the rescue.”

“I can take care of myself, Danny.”

“Yeah, that’s debatable, babe.”

“Danny--”

“Hey. Save the guilt trip, okay? None of this is your fault. I know you’re blaming yourself, not that you’re ever gonna say it-”

“It is my fault. I let Greer-”

“You didn’t let her anything. She took advantage of you. She betrayed you. That’s on her. Not on you.”

Steve shakes his head and lifts it up, dislodging Danny’s hand. “I gotta pack,” he says, standing. “We’re flying out in six hours.”

Danny watches him go, shaking his head. He can only hope that once this thing is over, there will be pieces left to pick up, not just an empty shell.

 

* * *

Okay. Danny’s got to admit, they got a pretty good team put together, but throughout the flight, his attention is on Steve. He only half-listens to Gutches’ stories, intent on watching Steve, who’s _not_ listening to the stories at all. He’s lost in his own head, and despite Catherine’s efforts, he stays that way for the duration.

Danny maybe slightly softens his position on Catherine’s presence during the flight, seeing how hard she’s trying to be there for Steve, how she’s trying to pull him out of his head, out of this death spiral of guilt he’s got going on, but only slightly. 

Steve however, stays sullen and hyper-focused, not even cracking a smile when he’s got Catherine in a gorgeous evening gown on his arm. 

When they plan the breach on Hassan’s place, he doesn’t mind staying on the ground with Catherine, letting the more experienced guys do the actual breaching. Of course the plan doesn't survive the initial assault, but overall, it goes surprisingly well.

He is so, so incredibly _relieved_ to hear Steve leaving Hassan alive, especially when he catches on that Hassan’s one-year-old baby son is in the room with them. It’s _twice_ now that the SEALs have let him live. Maybe the man will catch on. He’ll spend the rest of his days in jail, but he’ll be alive at least. Maybe his son won’t learn to hate, maybe because Steve let him live, like Joe did.

 

* * *

The sun hasn’t touched the horizon and they’re on their way to China. It’s a small hop from Laos, at least, but it’s a lot more dangerous. Ventiane was at least a tourist spot. The hole where Greer is hiding isn’t anywhere where Americans are supposed to be and if they get caught, well... 

In the end, it’s a non-issue.

Catherine tells him Greer was aiming to shoot Steve, but in his mind, it’s a little too convenient. Who knows, and in the grand scheme of things, who cares. Greer, the true person responsible, is dead, and she can’t hurt Steve again. 

He can maybe now look after the man in question. Make sure he starts to heal, because it’s gonna be a hell of a task.

Steve looks more broken-hearted when they get back, if at all possible, and Danny has to wonder just how much that weekend in Morocco meant, 17 years ago, or this is just typical Steven J. McGarrett beating himself up for things he’s not responsible for. Who knows? It’s likely Steve’s blaming himself for the chain of events Greer set in motion, blames himself for his former SEAL team dying, for Joe dying, and Steve’s carrying all this _guilt_ on his shoulders, of course he is. Danny shakes his head. Trust Steve to not see himself as the one betrayed but as the one who let people down.

He watches him say his goodbyes to Wade and Catherine and as soon as they’re gone, the man that greeted him when he got to the ranch is back; the man who looks ten years older, with deep dark circles under his eyes, the man with the lifeless eyes, broken voice, shoulders bowed by the weight of unbearable guilt and grief.

“Hey,” he greets as Steve walks back to him.

“Hey. Plane is ready to take you and Junior back to Hawaii.”

“No.”

“No?”

No,” Danny huffs. “Junior’s going back. I’m staying with you.”

“Danny...”

“Don’t. I told you. Family. You kept me away for a month. Now that I am here, you are not getting rid of me. Capice?”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, looking away. “There’s no point in trying to convince you to go, is there?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

* * *

They’re sitting together quietly in front of a beautiful fireplace, a nice, warm fire blazing, whiskeys in their hands when he decides it’s time.

“Joe had good taste,” he comments, letting his gaze wander around the ranch house. He knows the cabin was badly damaged in the firefight but the main house was left intact.

“Yeah,” Steve answers laconically.

“He’d be glad you kept the torture out in the shed,” he says casually.

He doesn’t get the reaction he expected. Steve doesn’t even look at him, just keeps his eyes on the fire. “Not the first time you’ve seen me do that.”

“No, but there was a... level between this and the cartel thug in Mexico. I think... I tend to forget what Navy SEALs are capable of, and what... What _I expect out of you._ ”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Steve growls, his empty whiskey glass slamming onto the small table beside the couch.

“Hey, don’t. I’m not disappointed! That’s not what this is about!”

Steve finally turns to look at him. “No? Then, why are you bringing it up then?”

“Because I’m worried about you. I am _worried._ You’re not okay. Because you look so far from okay as I’ve ever seen you! Because I know you, and the you I know doesn’t do this, or at least not without... consequences.”

“You think I’m losing sleep over what I did you Thompson? I’m not. So you can stop worrying.”

“No, I can’t. Because that might not bother you, but you’re still not okay, because you’re still blaming yourself for Joe’s death a--”

“Because it is my fault!” Steve explodes, shooting to his feet.

“You’re not the one who killed him, Steve! Greer’s the one who sold you out!”

“I’m the one who got blindsided--”

“Oh, right, You’re responsible for her turning traitor. One roll in the hay with you and all of a sudden, it makes you responsible for what she decides to do ten, fifteen years later? How arrogant of you to think you have so much influence on people!”

Steve turns and tosses his head belligerently, looking anywhere but at Danny.

“Remember way back when, when Joe came to you, when SEAL team 9 was being picked off? The blame for their deaths went with whomever sold them off. Not with Joe because he couldn’t protect them in time. Not with you either.”

Danny stands, placing his glass on the floor, watching Steve pace in front of the fireplace, his hands on his hips, gaze on the floor, posture radiating guilt, misery and sorrow.

“Babe, it’s not your fault. Joe did the same with your team than with Team 9. He tried to protect you,” Danny says, grabbing his shoulder as he passes in front of him.

Steve’s steps falter and he stops, eyes still on the floor. “He’s dead because of me, Danny.”

“No. He’s dead because of Greer. Nothing, _nothing_ **_you_** did led to Joe’s death. Greer sold you out, sold out your team, because she was a traitor, jilted, jealous, whatever. Her reasons don’t matter, but she’s the one who did the selling out. You guys tried to protect yourselves, and you are the only one who survived. It’s awful and tragic and sad as fuck but... it’s not anybody’s fault but Rachel Greer’s babe.”

He feels Steve shudder under his hand, feels the tension break, feels him slump.

“It’s okay to grieve, Steve,” Danny says softly, putting a hand behind Steve’s neck, drawing him near, till his head is on Danny’s shoulder, where it should have been when they’d first hugged. “It’s okay,” Danny repeats.

“You’re fucking _relentless_ ,” Steve mutters wetly, into his neck.

“Yeah well, I’m right, so.”

They stay like that for a while and Steve does that quiet, tense crying thing he does, till Danny’s had enough.

“Hey. Enough. Cry. It’s okay. You won’t melt if you make a sound, huh?” he says, squeezing the back of Steve’s neck, tightening his arm around his back and finally, _finally,_ Steve sags against him, shaking and shuddering until he just _breaks._

It takes a while for Steve to run out of tears. They end up sitting on the old, worn wood floor in front of the fireplace, the fire itself nothing but embers glowing a deep orange under black and white edges.

Steve’s head is heavy against Danny's shoulder and neck, his arms loose around his back and chest, enough to wonder if the cloak of deep exhaustion he’s been carrying has dragged him down into sleep.

“I ever tell you how... I stole a car, when I was sixteen?” Steve says, rough and low. So, not asleep, then.

Danny gives a small chuckle. “You? Steal a car? Sounds like something I would have done.  I bet there’s a story there, maybe with Joe involved? Tell me the story, babe. Tell me all the stories.”

“Okay. Carlsbad. I was sixteen, like I said.”

He listens, for hours and hours, and hours, until the sun comes up.

At one point, Steve looks up at him, gives him this _look_ , that look that says thank you and I love you and that, that there is all Danny needs to know Steve’ll be okay. 

It’ll take whatever time it takes, however many nights on the floor, in front of a dying fire, but Steve’ll make it through.

Danny’ll make sure of it.

 

 _Help me make it through the night_    
 _I don't care who's right or wrong_    
 _I don't try to understand_    
 _Let the devil take tomorrow_    
 _Lord tonight I need a friend_

 

FIN

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope you enjoyed this story.
> 
> Let me know what you think.


End file.
